


Obsessed

by hexedharlot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempted Murder, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Auror Harry Potter, BDSM, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Bloodlust, Bloody Kisses, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Dismemberment, Edgeplay, Forced Orgasm, Hate Sex, Infidelity, M/M, Minor Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Multiple Orgasms, Near Death Experiences, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Draco Malfoy, POV First Person, Pining Draco Malfoy, Predator/Prey, Psychological Torture, Serial Killers, Stalking, Sub Draco Malfoy, Top Harry Potter, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25197166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexedharlot/pseuds/hexedharlot
Summary: It's odd, really, how much people don't realize they take for granted. The corpse is warm, but my entire being trembles with the fear pulsating within like a rabid beast. All my instincts are screaming at me and I notice all of a sudden something that should have been obvious to me: this is the first person I've held from whom I can feel no pulse, no breath, nothing. It's traumatizing, and oddly enough, I'm harder than granite.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 92





	Obsessed

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by tempest, author cunninglinguist

Obsessed is the only way I can describe how I feel for Potter. What started out as me wishing to befriend him (I knew Father would want me to have nice contacts) quickly spiralled into more - a simple crush to full blown fancying. 

I thought this might have gotten better as I became an adult, but no; as is with my life and luck, that would never work. 

Rather, I found myself studying him: his family, his friends, his mentors, his feats, etc, etc, etc. He came in frequently to drop off artifacts for my department. Soon my coworkers had started to clear the way when Potter called ahead, as they knew how badly I wanted to touch him. Even if it was just simply brushing his hand as he hands me a hot, bloody knife, freshly wrested from a newly dead Muggle (yes, that's happened). Anything to satiate my need, if only slightly.

In my bedside drawers I kept incriminating pictures cropped from magazines like Witch Weekly. I'd often pull out my small vial of Amortentia, breathe in his scent, and wank while staring at a bare-chested moving photo held in my hand. Needless to say, I'm infatuated. And Merlin, how I wish to see him in action.

I want to see him using Sectumsempra, the same exact spell he had used on me in our 6th year, on a Dark wizard; I want to see him covered in sweat, blood, and tears while he interrogates a prisoner; I want to have him cut neat stripes down my chest and lick away my blood; I want to have him pound into me like I have no say in it; I want Him.

All of these are quite troubling thoughts in a briefing, however. Pressing the heel of my hand against my groin to stave off my impending erection, I try to focus on Potter's words. He's gathered up the Minister (Granger), his fellow Aurors, members from the Committee for Magical Law Enforcement, and, of course, multiple Unspeakables - such as myself. 

There's a new Dark wizard on the rise, leaving behind her a trail of limbs in dumpsters behind nightclubs, cut a la Muggle from those she's tortured; with new and improved methods, of course. Thus far, Potter and Weasley are the only people to have escaped her clutches and lived to tell the tale.

"Malfoy, are you paying attention to anything I'm saying?" The Savior snaps at me, and my eyes widen in response while more blood rushes downward. I nod. "Good. Now, Adelphi used to be an Unspeakable. She studied Horcruxes, gadgets, and invented spells and potions. She's damn smart, and she uses any means possible to get her way. She has spells and potions on her side that you can't fathom..." I can't continue paying attention when he's talking like this. Despite my efforts, I'm rock hard and raring to go.

You see, in the last seven years we've been out of school, I haven't been able to push these thoughts out of my head. Originally I considered them intrusive, but now they're just plain sexy. Sometimes they're welcome, even. If anything, the daydreams and wet dreams where he cuts me open and fucks my throat, covered in blood and pounding me from behind as he chokes me to death led me down a really fucking weird path of self discovery. 

I've become promiscuous... A slut, if you will. I'm a regular at multiple bars and nightclubs, and will bring home whomever will have me. It doesn't matter to me. I've fucked into too many slick cunts, bottomed for too many burly men, and partaken in too many orgies to count. My latest catch, last night, was a delicious little lady with a brightly colored, spiked mohawk and sharp stilettos who offered to step on me. At that thought, I rub absentmindedly at the bruises dotting my sides and suck on my lower lip.

Idiot. You're supposed to be listening to your infatuation discussing torture methods rather than fueling your raging hard on.

~*~

"Come here often?" The blonde woman to my left speaks up, stuffing some money in our tabletop dancers cleavage. 

"Yes," I reply, sipping on my overly sweet fruity drink before pulling out my hip flask and adding enough firewhiskey to make an Erumpent woozy.

"You must be bored of it if you do..." She trails off with a smirk. "Care to go somewhere more private?"

"You're more forward than most of the people I've met here."

"Oh, yes... Shall we, then?"

The damp alleyway beside the strip club smells of piss, alcohol, and... blood? My red leather trousers seem to shrink a size as the metallic scent fills my lungs.

She practically lunges for me, grasping my shoulders like a lifeline as her tongue slithers in my throat while I whimper. I uncork the vial hanging from my necklace at sniff at it desperately: the scents of treacle tart, rust, broom polish, blood, Potter's favorite cologne, and decay fill my nose. The woman scratches at my chest as she frantically unbuttons my shirt and I nearly pass out from sheer want when her pointed talons of nails draw blood.

"Shit!" She exclaims, pulling away. I grab her hand before she can get to her wand and Heal me.

"Don't. Scratch me as much as you can. Choke me. Merlin, just fucking hurt me, please." I'm practically begging her already, but she grins sadistically before gripping my hair and pulling me down to her eye level.

"On your knees." I whimper. "Now," she growls, acrylics pushing against my jugular. When I'm on the ground, she positions my arms uncomfortably behind my back, murmuring a quick Incarcerous to hold my limbs at angles that, should I move, would surely cause breakage. The toe of her combat boot clad foot brushes against my groin for a moment before she kicks my stomach. I moan loudly, now perched on the ground in the most wantonly sit, toes pointed out on either side while my thighs are flattened against the musty concrete.

"I'm gonna have some fun with you, yeah?" I whimper, nodding at a superhuman speed. She frowns, producing a ball gag from her jacket pocket and shoving it in my mouth unceremoniously. "Eager, are you? Haven't had one good as you in forever..." She trails off before stomping on my thigh. "Gotta savor this." Tightening her fistful of hair, she kicks me, hard, in the groin with what I now presume are steel toed boots as I groan.

"You know, it's not smart to be a slut," she murmurs, using her thumb to wipe tears from my eyes. "It can be quite dangerous, you see." She reaches into the back pockets of her jeans, producing a switchblade in one hand and her wand in the other. My eyes widen in fear, thoughts crashing like waves when I remember what Potter said in the interdepartmental meeting earlier.

"Adelphi likes playing with her victims... She's sadistic, and likely gains some sort of grotesque satisfaction in what she does... Most of the dismembered corpses have been found behind bars and stripclubs... We think she takes advantage of sex workers and promiscuous people... Muggles and wizards alike are in danger..."

Shit.

"Oh, you seem to know what you're in for, do you? Yes..." She trails off, eyes glinting maliciously at me. "Yes, that's me. I am, in fact, the Dark Wizard Adelphi. And you, good sir, are my newest victim." Opening the switchblade and grazing my cheek with it, Adelphi speaks again, hardly a whisper, "You look so pretty, bound and gagged and at my mercy... First, I'm gonna try out some new spells I've been working on." She leans to lick at the blood on my cheek with her split tongue, reminding me of a snake. 

"Then, I'll just barely keep you alive, cutting you until you can't think. Oddly, if you lose enough blood you'll float somewhere between life and oblivion... I hear it's euphoric, but I don't know personally." My mutinous traitor of a cock fills even more. 

"Funny, you seem to like this. Hmm... I can't wait to see your eyes go blank when I make the final cut. I'll slice your throat, let you bleed out as you choke. Do you know what comes after that?" I nod, thinking about the arm Potter had handed me last week.

It was sawed off crudely, removed from a Muggle stripper aged 19 years old. At least I've lived longer than her. When it was given to my department for study, the tattoos had been burned off, skin cauterized where inky black images of butterflies should have been. The wrist bones had been hit with a curse that turned the bones into fine powder, causing me to nearly drop it when it was placed in my arms, feeling more like a dead, scaly fish rather than a human limb.

"I wonder how long you'll be waiting, spread across dumpsters around the city, before some poor Auror or Muggle policeman finds one of your parts. Maybe the search for the rest of you will take weeks... Yeah, I'm gonna cut you into as many pieces as I can. Don'tcha think that'll be fun?" 

Tears are streaming out of my eyes now as I think about everything I'll miss. Astoria is pregnant, and I was hoping to be a better father than mine. I hope she'll be alright without me. Except she won't be. Her disease is progressing faster than ever and she chose me, despite her family's wishes. She chose me as the person she wanted to live out the rest of her short life with. And I never made a move on Potter, not even after he and the Weaslette broke up. Not even when Astoria said she'd be welcome to having him join our relationship. I never attended Father's funeral, even though Mother had begged me for weeks, postponing his burial for my convenience. 

I can't die here. I need to move.

"Nuh uh uh," she chuckles out, raising her penciled eyebrows. "Don't struggle unless you want to break your arms. I bet Auntie Bella didn't foresee a situation such as this when she taught you Occlumency, did she?" Adelphi cackles in a way most similar to Aunt Bellatrix and I hate that I couldn't keep my mind closed for this.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not judging. In fact, I think I might borrow some of Bellatrix's tactics. Does the cackling work for me?" Unfortunately it does. "Good, good... I can see your desires, you know; splayed out in your mind like your legs are when you think of our Saviour. Yes, that's right. Be ashamed of yourself, you filthy fucker. I know this turns you on." She reaches for the fragile gold chain around my neck. "Amortentia, yeah? Mind if I take a whiff?" 

Ripping the necklace off in one swift yank that breaks the chain, she holds the vial to her nose and sniffs heartily, pupils blown. I can't help but wonder what it smells like to her.

"Oh, well, Draco," Adelphi growls, baring fanglike teeth, "you and I share some desires, it seems. No, I don't smell Potter, I smell blood. I smell decay. I smell sweat and grime and the filthy stench of sex. We aren't that different, you know..." I doubt that. "Ha! You think I'm lying! How cute.

"One of the main differences between us is that I get my desires filled quite regularly, but you'll never, never have a chance with 'Harry Potter.' Mmm, yes, give me more of your regrets. Tell me just how miserable you are."

At this point, she's stopped hurting me physically, but I'm trembling. My arms are still bound uncomfortably behind my back and she's probing within my mind, voicing my greatest fears in a way that arouses me in the most morbid way.

"Oh yes, you're worthless, just as Father tells you. You aren't strong whatsoever, you've never been." A grazing of acrylic talons against my scalp. "You've always wanted in your enemy's pants, you fag." Fingers wrapping around my hair, my cock twitching mutinously. "You can't hide it, Draco. You like this." The blade of her knife slicing a lightning bolt on my forehead. "There. Now you and him have something in common." Ropes tightening, nearly cutting into my arms.

"Another similarity between you and I, Draco, is that Potter is our grand prize." Shoulders popping out of their sockets. "Ha! You love the pain." Tears dripping to the musty cement. "You'd like this a lot more if it were him, though, wouldn't you." Trousers tightening. "I have to agree with you on that-"

Blinding flashes of white light. Loud, booming sounds filling my ears. Silver stag prancing protectively. Moonlight silhouetting a muscled figure.

Many things happen at once.

Adelphi throws her knife at me. It plants itself in my thigh with a horrific, shredding sound. Blood slithers out of the wound, uncomfortable and hot beneath the leather of my trousers. Potter throws spells at her, and she responds with curse after blinding curse shot right back at him. The patronus -Harry's - comes nearer to me. I'm enveloped in warmth as the ropes binding my arms are loosened before they fall away completely. With a surge of adrenaline, I pull my wand from my jacket pocket and cast a wordless Sectumsempra at the feminine form before me. Adelphi stops, and, unnervingly, so does Potter.

"Oh," she breathes out, turning to me. "I see how it is." Adelphi smiles manically, her wand falling to the cement of the alleyway with a dull clunk. I remove the gag from my aching mouth with shaky fingers.

"So? How is it?" I whisper into the suddenly serene silence surrounding us before ripping her blade from my thigh and wrenching it at her.

It lands firmly in her chest, a terrific crunch echoing in the stillness. She giggles breathlessly, eyes glinting when she meets my gaze again. Adelphi drops to her knees before crawling closer to me, grabbing my collar in both hands. Her blood gushes over both of us like some gruesome hot spring.

"I was right." Her voice can hardly be considered a whisper. Leaning into my ear, she continues, "it is euphoric."

She draws back to gaze into my eyes again. Horrorstruck, I'm frozen in time, hardly registering the pain in my leg where I just got fucking stabbed. 

Her smile is wide at first, dropping down in time with the droop of her eyelids as the life leaks out of her in time with the blood covering the ground. She breathes in, a rattling noise not far off from a Dementors breathing, before exhaling shakily. I see the exact moment she lets herself go. I can practically see her battling with Death as he hangs over the serial murderer. Then, Adelphis limp body falls into me, and the blood drips slow. No longer can you see her pulse in the rapid growth of the sanguine puddle beneath her.

It's odd, really, how much people don't realize they take for granted. The corpse is warm, but my entire being trembles with the fear pulsating within like a rabid beast. All my instincts are screaming at me and I notice all of a sudden something that should have been obvious to me: this is the first person I've held from whom I can feel no pulse, no breath, nothing. It's traumatizing, and oddly enough, I'm harder than granite.

The dead weight of her limp body lifts suddenly, reminding me of Potter's presence. He Heals my leg. Wandlessly, wordlessly. The air hangs heavy between us, the only sound besides our breathing being the forlorn chirp of crickets - they must have stopped during the encounter with Adelphi... Her voice rings through my head: Draco, Draco, Draco...

"Draco?" Reality comes back into focus. Potter has dragged me away from the corpse, a trail of our blood winding along the asphalt. "Draco." This time his hoarse voice is stern, commanding. It goes straight to my cock, despite the amount of blood I've lost. I'm dizzy, empty. The only thing that's real is Potter, kneeling in front of me, concern etched into the lines of his face. Oh yeah, he's talking to me...

"Potter..."

"I sent a patronus to Ron and the rest of the team. Are you hurt anywhere else?" I nod, and he narrows his eyes.

"Arms... Can't move... Fell off, I'm think..." My voice sounds far off, as though I were speaking through water.

Wide, calloused hands grip my biceps, and it's all the warning I get before both arms are yanked farther from my body. Then, with a grunt from Potter, they're shoved ruthlessly back into place with a loud crack. Everything seems clearer beneath this new pain.

"Bloody fuck," I swear quietly.

"You've lost a lot of blood," Potter says, pointing out what I was already acutely aware of.

"Get me out of here before I make you lose some," I mutter, my eyes closimg against my will. The hands return, followed by thick, muscular arms. I'm pulled into a hug, swirling through existence, unable to breathe. He's stronger than I thought, and apparently Adelphi isn't the only one trying to kill me tonight. Only difference being that he's trying to strangle me rather than--

The pressure releases with a pop. I guess he was Apparating, not trying to kill me. Not like I care much either way. He could decapitate me and I'd thank him.

What strikes me as odd, however, is that when I open my eyes we aren't at Mungo's - we're at what seems to be Potter's place of dwelling. An ancient looking elf approaches us, running off when Potter barks frantic instructions at it. When it returns, a bottle is uncorked before it is shoved into my mouth unceremoniously and tipped back for me to drink. It tastes like hot leather and copper, and the sensation of cold water splashes up my body. Upon reaching my head, everything becomes clearer to me. Potter brought me to his house.

Drunk on adrenaline, blood replenishment potions, and, of course, the alcohol from earlier, I have new courage. Boldly, I drop to my knees and shove my nose into Potter's groin, basking in his scent. Then, everything goes black.

~*~

A gentle hand shaking my shoulder is what wakes me. Memory rushes my mind, appalling me to attention. Upon inspection, I'm on the floor of the bedroom Potter Apparated us to. It can't have been too long since I passed out.

"How long was I out?" I groan.

"About half a minute," replies an eager, manly voice. It's Potter, of course. "Care to explain what that was about?" His eyes drift to my groin, my erection still straining to be released.

"You saved me." The room goes silent. 

Potter nods.

"Save me more," I moan tiredly, smacking his face lightly with an outstretched hand and a slight smile, completely unawares he'd take me seriously.

He grabs my wrist with one hand, his other arm snaking beneath me, my body limp as Adelphis warm corpse. I let out the beginning of an offended squawk, but his mouth is on mine, swallowing the sound before I can finish. 

His tongue nearly chokes me as it delves into me quickly, tangling with my own in a frantic dance. He tastes of cinnamon and sage, of citrus and cashews, sweet and savory. I fear I may black out yet again, drunk on the feeling of him.

He lifts me as though I were weightless, laying me over his bed with a gentleness opposite to how he is ravaging my mouth. I'm on my back, hands groping feverishly and legs wrapped tightly around his hips. Come to think of it, his bed is level with his pelvis - he must bring men home fairly often.

He ruts against me and, oh fuck, he's hung like a hippogriff. I moan weakly into his mouth, and he pulls his lips away from mine. Panting down at me, he smirks.

"You liked that, didn't you? You're fucking disgusting." I can't find any way to respond, any words that can get me out of this scrutiny. I feel incredibly vulnerable, but the worst part is that I might actually like this? "I can see you eye fucking me all the time. Is it true the other Unspeakables hide from you when I drop off artifacts? It must be - I can see it in your eyes. Maybe we aren't so different, Malfoy. After all, I've been wanting this for a long time. Wanting you, that is. And now I shall have you." He flicks his hand and our clothes are Vanished, the raw power he emits radiating under his skin and dancing along my spine tantalizingly. 

"What's that?" He asks, pointing above my right eyebrow, where Adelphi had carved a lightning bolt into my skin.

"Never mind that, Potter. Adelphi did that." Then, he waves his hand over my face. The drying blood weeps off into nothingness and the cut is healed, a twin scar to Harry's.

"Did-did she?" He whispers. I nearly kick him into oblivion right there. What an idiot. I didn't want him to see that, but now it's too late. He just stares at it, mouth opening and closing like a dumb koi.

"Stop that," I interrupt, digging a heel into his lower back.

"Why'd she do this? Why am I doing this?" Potter plants his warm hands on my shoulders and begins to push away, apparently worried, suddenly, about the morality of our situation.

"Come on," I whine, "Let's get back to the homoeroticism. That was fun."

That seems to do the trick. I get a glimpse of white scarring on the back of his right hand in the moonlight before it's placed on my neck. Potter doesn't press, or squeeze, or do anything for that matter; he just stares at me with a challenge in his eyes.

"Squeeze from the sides, but don't press unless you want to collapse my windpipe." He flashes me with a toothy grin, leaning ever closer predatorily.

"Maybe that's my goal," he growls. My cock twitches, leaking another dribble of precome on my stomach, causing him to laugh at my expense. Then, he squeezes. "If you want me to stop, start humming the song that played at yours and Astorias wedding, you cheating creep." His next move is to latch his mouth on my nipple, waving his free hand for ropes to tie my hands behind my back. This time, however, the binds are looser, more comfortable, put there to hold me tenderly rather than to break my arms should I move. He has me suck the fingers of his left hand, slicking them with spit.

Groaning, he kisses me again while snaking his fingers to my entrance.

"Mind if I," he begins, waggling his eyebrows, "slither in?" I choke out a breathy laugh as he squeezes harder, ramming two thick fingers inside me. 

The way he scissors me open would have been downright painful if not for how he frequently caressed my prostate. He went in almost dry with his fingers, stretching me with scary urgency. I feel like I'm floating. His hand on my neck reduces blood flow to my brain as he reduces me to a downright, shivering, moaning mess. 

When he takes me in his mouth I nearly lose it. I would've come straight down his throat, overwhelmed with pleasure, had he not thought far enough ahead to conjure a cock ring. He sucks me down to the base, my prick twitching as it hits his tonsils. After stretching me endlessly, edging and overwhelming me, he finally pulls back. 

He pulls off his shirt first, revealing a scarred expanse of tanned skin, stretched taught over defined, bulging muscles. Hands frantically undoing his flies, he catches my gaze. His eyes seem to glow eerily with immense heat. It scares me to no end. 

"Do you get off on the fact that you just had a near death experience?" He cocks an eyebrow, hands slowing to a snail's pace. "Or maybe you should think about your pregnant wife who has no idea whether you're alive or dead right now. You go to bars often?" I nod. He chuckles. "Does she get off on knowing you're fucking other people?" His massive cock is finally released, and Potter pounces on me.

He flips me over, pushing my face into the mattress with one hand, the other presumably lining himself up. His knees go between my thighs and push to widen my stance. Wasting no time with gentle nudges, he thrusts home in just one go. The sound that wrenches itself from my throat can only be described as unholy.

He fucks into me at a searing pace, pulling my bound hands or my hair, biting my neck or shoulders, pushing me as far as I can go into the bed. His weight on my back doesn't allow for me to inhale fully, causing the dizziness from earlier to return in full force. I'm drooling, crying out incoherently, unaware of anything beside the sensations. It goes on for forever - he refuses to remove the cock ring and just let me come.

Finally, nails scratching down my back when he straightens up again, my cock is freed. I come promptly. So much. So many times. Back to back.

Sparks fly from his fingertips and singe the hair on my back. His wandless will probably leave welts. But, Merlin, it's unlike anything I've ever experienced before. The last time I come I end up blacking out entirely.

I'm alive, and this pain, this pleasure, is all proof of that. So maybe once I wake up, I'll make a move on Potter. Maybe he'll help me and Astoria to raise Scorp. Maybe he'll join our relationship. Maybe I'll live forever...

**Author's Note:**

> ive been having intrusive thoughts can you tell?


End file.
